


A Warrior's Protection

by aronoiiel



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Depression, Gen, Psychological Torture, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 21:07:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18764239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aronoiiel/pseuds/aronoiiel
Summary: Glorfindel seeks healing from the events of his time in Arda and a way to fill his need to protect.  Maedhros seeks solitude to find a way to deal with the endless levels of agony he cannot escape. When a warrior finds his need to protect challenged there is only one way to respond. Even if the fight he enters is one that will neither be over quickly nor will it come out with a clear victor.





	A Warrior's Protection

**Author's Note:**

> {A/N: Honestly I have been horribly depressed with alot of things going on in my life lately and I needed an outlet. I doubt any of this even makes sense and I didn't really intend it to. I wanted to share it with someone who inspired me to write some stuff down that I think needed to get out. SO thank you. . .this actually helped alot and I have never done this before. Never shared a writing I have done anyway. So I may delete this soonish. So please if you dont mind no flames or critical comments. Oh and sorry if I missed any tags I'm not good with these things heh. Kinda why I never share annything :/ Thank you.

 

He has returned. Again. Maedhros fought the urge to snarl at the Vanya. He had no right. He knew this. Steeling his reactions the fiery elf dug his heels into the bark of the tree squeezing his arms tighter about his legs. He loathed this. He knew he was wrong to feel defensive against the lord whose peace he trespassed on continuously. Which compounded the well of self loathing he came to drown in. Only one place could he find the quiet he needed to dive into the rubble of his world. 

Glorfindel observed the elf’s minute movements from the corners of his vision. He knew he was unwelcome as he always was. It had been two centuries they had begun this dance. He knew the steps. Stretching his arms above his head in an overly exaggerated manner, Glorfindel casually strode over to the stream and sank down on the rock he always settled upon. Several feet from the branch Maedhros had curled himself on over hanging the babbling water. Pulling himself into his usual meditative position with his legs folded casually beneath him he began to allow his Fea to explore the area. 

Maedhros cringed inwardly as he watched the Vanya from his peripheral. He could easily feel the elf’s Fea spread through the area like a collection of feathers blown by a gentle spring breeze. He always did this. Grounding himself in the quiet peace of this hidden escape from the world around them. The feeling only ever brushed Maedhros and each time it did it left an uncomfortable warmth on the edges of his awareness. Rage always flared from the elf at the audacity this being had trying to sooth the suffering he deserved to drown in. Memories flared in Maedhros of past encounters with this elf and for the barest of seconds he allowed that power to ghost over the open wounds he allowed to fester. For the barest of seconds he allowed a fea infinitely more grounded to balm the agony, the fear, the loathing. . .then he slammed his shields into place. That was not for him. 

After several minutes of ghosting over those shields the elf pulled his power back and changed tactics. Threads of power flowed from the warrior the way roots would branch from a tree. Seeking and finding the threads of power that coursed through the island. For several hours Glorfindel would walk the paths of Valinor discovering every living being on it’s shores. Allowing his Fea to brush along the surface of those he loved most and smiling at the lightest of responses he received. They knew this was his way of continuing to watch over his chosen family. A warrior needed to protect. Needed to know those they live for were whole. Battles they could live without as long as they could reaffirm all was well. When first he attempted this he was hit with quite severe backlash from a few of those he had touched. Not all welcomed a sudden intrusion of one Fea onto another without warning. The fall out of life on Arda was deeply routed in many of the reborn. None more so than the elf perched within the shelter of an ever saddening willow. 

The Vanya was lost in the tide of the island. Maedhros fought the urge as always to throw that smug idiot into the water. The anger was quenched once more as a knife flashed through his mind and ripped open his Fea. Sluggishly the emotions that festered for so many long ages oozed from the wounds. Flashes of the past played through his thoughts as though he relived the moments outside of himself drowning even the breath in his lungs. Gasping he clenched his eyes shut and bit his lip against the fiery agony clenching and shredding his chest. 

Glorfindel felt the shift in the air around the elf but continued his ritual. He learned long ago this was not yet the time to make his move. That first day he had come on behalf of those he held close to his own Fea. To continue his own healing. Now he comes because he sees that this elf in deed deserves to have one who can ride the waves of his torment. And remains despite the desolate cries of a once loving and honorable Fea. Focusing on his task at hand Glorfindel continued to locate the furthest members of his chosen family. 

Ah, Erestor was once again causing trouble on the farthest side of their new home. With a soft smile, Glorfindel allowed his amusement and slight disapproval to seep into his tendril of energy he entwined with the councilor's own. A sharp crackle of annoyance met his amusement while a softer reassurance and amused acquiescence fed back into the flow of their energies. Erestor wasn't causing much mischief it seemed. Not today at least. Inhaling the grounding scent of the swift moving water mingled with that of the dense forest, Glorfindel readied himself for his last and most trying Fea connection for this day.  
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When he had first settled nearby this little glade with it's happy stream and dense forest was ideal for re-connecting his weary and hurting Fea to the world he no longer felt apart of. Both of his lives in Arda had been exceptionally damaging to his Fea. While one found healing with the Valar they could only reconnect the pieces it was up to the host to forge those connections into solid bridges. It was some years after he began his explorations that his Fea had been drawn, nay, dragged to that of one who practically screamed for release from it's bonds. Shockingly that tide of suffering was not but a few paces away. That was the day he discovered Nelyafinwe had also discovered his little sheltered glade. 

Glorfindel, being the elf that he is confronted his companion with words of kindness and acceptance.

“Hail Nelyafinwe, tis a pleasant surprise to have such esteem company in my little hide away.”the golden haired warrior smiled and raised a hand for a warriors greeting. 

And was promptly thrown on his arse with a broken nose for his troubles. 

“Who are you to approach me as though we are kin! I do not nor will I ever desire your feeble attempts to create a false sense of companionship! Stay far from me or it will not be my fist that harms your visage next time”

And those were the polite things tossed his way. 

He remembered well the scathing words thrown at him. Good thing he had a thick skin for such thanks to Erestor's constant need to use him for a verbal punching bag. 

From that violent encounter the Vanya learned well how to approach the glade without bodily or verbal harm. Several less physical encounters later Glorfindel was able to discern what the elf had come to the glade for and the reasons for the surprisingly violent reactions.

While the golden haired elf came to center his Fea and reassure himself his family and extended family were well. Maedhros came to submerge himself in the excruciating suffering his Fea had been drowning in since the burning of the ships. 

Naturally, when the warrior first discerned this purpose he had instinctively tried to use his connections to the island's own energy paths to help ease the gaping wounds gushing profusely from the Fea. That of course landed the golden haired elf painfully against a sturdy oak some 20ft from the rock he was perched on. He had not anticipated such a violent reaction from the very core of the red haired elf's power. It was dusk when he finally regained consciousness with Fingolfin sitting with his head cradled in his lap. 

With twin terrors about playing all manner of pranks on their tutors, Glorfindel felt himself immune to most embarrassments. . . this was not one of them. 

“Do not judge him harshly Laurefindil.” Fingolfin had whispered. “My nephew sends his sincere apologies.”

Though greatful for the lord's quiet words he still winced as light lanced into his eyes like spikes of white hot fire. “I. . . do not. . . my lord.”

Fingolfin smirked and smoothed the hair from the clenched eyes. “You have a gentle heart young one. There are some wounds that fester beyond our ability to heal.” sighing lightly Fingolfin cast his eyes over to the stream. “Not all of those poisons can be purged from the Fea no matter how we may wish it.” 

Glorfindel groaned as Fingolfin helped him slowly sit against that oak that had essentially saved him from flying a further distance that may have caused serious injury. “Aye, I know to well how impossibly deep some wounds can linger.” A flash of silver hair and a devastated family made him wince as his Fea still lashed like a whip at the memory.

Fingolfin turned to him, a sympathetic look in his ancient eyes. “As warriors we experience things that we can easily logic our way out of. As a captor, we are completely helpless to experiences we are forced to endure. He has not spoken of what he has been subjected to.” Taking a deep steadying breath the elf lord offered Glorfindel a drink from the make shift bowl he created from fallen leaves and had filled from the stream. “If you wish to pursue this I will not discourage you. I will offer you this warning. He does not appreciate being touched in any way. As you have seen that applies both to physical and spiritual advances. Be wary Laurefindil for you are not the only one who works toward healing our Nelya. Nor will you be the only one wounded in the task.” 

Glorfindel met the older elf lord's eyes as he dropped his controlled visage. For the barest of seconds, the golden haired warrior saw the soul crushing agony the elf lord suffered. His nephew's suffering was taking a deep toll on Fingolfin. That pain was mingled with helpless please and a fury as fierce as the fires of a freshly lit forge. Inhaling a steadying breath of the freshly blooming wildflowers, Glorfindel opened his eyes with a fierce smile plastered on his lips. 

“I am not one to shy from a challenge my lord.” a wince as he was pulled to stand. “Neither am I naive enough to think I can simply pull your nephew from his torment completely.” Locking eyes once more with the former high king Glorfindel flashed his usual brilliant smile. That smile that had warriors falling into formation behind him without so much as a second guess. That smile that had won over a weary and war hardened councilor. That smile that had put back together a family that had fallen apart at the seams with the loss of their foundation. That smile that had left a handful of survivors the courage to push through their loss and fury to find a new home. 

Fingolfin stood transfixed by that smile. This elf. . .yes this elf may be able to start something he himself had been struggling to begin as long as Nelya had been released to his care. Returning that soul searing smile with a more subdued yet hopeful one of his own, Fingolfin simply gave a shallow nod to the warrior.  
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That exchange was several centuries ago when this routine had began in earnest. Maedhros would arrive. Then Glorfindel. They would follow their own routines. Glorfindel feeding his warrior's instinct to protect. Maedhros allowing his Fea's numerous wounds to drown out the peace and solitude he harbored within. Near the end of his walk Glorfindel began a ritual of ghosting over the other elf's shields. When the Feanorian was completely consumed by the flood of trauma Glorfindel would seep through the cracks in his defenses. Maedhros became aware of his invasion quickly enough. As the years crawled on he either wearied of fighting off the blond or simply was in to much pain to fight him off. Either way the warrior took his fleeting opportunity to heal one small wound at a time.  
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Glorfindel's initial foray into Maedhros Fea nearly knocked his physical form off his rock. It was like hitting a waterfall of thick fluid. Bracing himself, Glorfindel forged his Fea through the viscous fluid and stopped in horror at what he saw. 

It was as if the other elf's chest had been ripped open and left to bleed profusely into an endless chasm. Thick, black and deep red fluid flowed freely. Everywhere he turned there were gaping wounds, scratches deep as claw marks as though something tried for centuries to escape. Wounds that were clearly healed over with years of scar tissue and some that had been distinctly ripped wide open to gush freely once more. Nothing was healed everything was in a process of adding to the revulsion and agony he couldn't believe he was witnessing. 

The horror of the damage to this elf's Fae was compounded by the faint sickly light that shone from the depths of the gory chasm. What once burned with the fierce love of life was now but a wane light sputtering and struggling against the pool of gore flooding down upon it. Unexpectedly a wave of unspeakable disgust and self loathing crashed violently against Glorfindel's Fea. The warrior was thrown against one of the walls. Maedhros was fighting his presence. Fighting his own violated Fea. Fighting to find purchase among the flood. 

Glorfindel was torn. He wanted to help the prince but this. . . was far beyond him. Every instinct cried to him to heal what he could. To call to Elrond. To Galadriel. Even Mithrandir. To anyone who he knew had the power to mend such horrific wounds. Physical or not no one could live long with such extensive damage. 

Yet, Maedhros had lived for ages with such trauma. Steeling himself against another wave of emotional agony Glorfindel looked for the areas where healing was slowly taking place. He could not fix everything at once but he would do what he could to aid in the process. Allowing his Fea to ease out as a gentle fog to balm the area of a scabbed over claw mark, he concentrated on threading glowing blue wisps of the islands power mingled with his Fea as sutures to the seeping wound. 

Maedhros' inner torment froze at the intrusion. The viscous fluid pouring from the numerous wounds simply. . .stopped. An eery calm settled within the chasm with a pregnant air. A low whisper of air curled about Glorfindel's presence. Dancing almost playfully as a kitten interested in the working of a bright new world. Allowing a single thread to entice this part to him, Glorfindel continued his work. The wisp curiously wove itself around one of Glorfindel's threads and the area they worked changed. The claw marks healed as they watched the wall becoming smooth and clean as though nothing had touched it. Glorfindel almost smiled. That was another small area healed. One step at a time.

Then everything changed. A high pitched wail raged through the chasm waking the flows from their paralysis and slamming Glorfindel's essence back against a particularly thickly thick wall of fluid. It was like being trapped in that sweet dark stuff they used for pastries that yule Arwen had visited from Lothlorien. The thought was thrown from his mind as another wail this time filled with pure rage flew through the chasm. 

Fear curled at the base of the elf's mind. The last time Maedhros raged against his aid like this they were both stuck in a healing sleep for several weeks. Glorfindel had very nearly lost his very Fea to the rage and violent damage Maedhros brought down upon himself. The warrior knew the elf did not intend to attack him directly, a very long conversation with Fingolfin had confirmed that, no this elf railed against himself. Against his perceived failures. Against his perceived weakness. Against his perceived acceptance of what he had been twisted to become. Maedhros believed he deserved this torment as penance. Had accepted it completely as apart of who he now was.

Throwing out threads like a spiders web Glorfindel braced himself against the onslaught. He would not leave until he was good and ready. Dark red tendrils flew up from the chasm ripping at the sides of already shredded walls. Flying up to the healed wall they broke apart into claws similar in size to what he had helped heal. Snarling in defiance the warrior flung his own glowing blue strands up as a defense. He would not lose ground here. A low moan echoed all around him before morphing into another snarl of agony filled rage. The threads tangled and pulled each refusing to give way to the other. Tiring Glorfindel was beginning to doubt he would win this battle when everything stopped. A heart wrenching cry of despair encompassed the area before the claws simply dissipated in a wisp of smoke. 

Glorfindel was in a state of shocked exhaustion. What had he just fought against. He knew deep down but did not want to consider it. Fingolfin's words came back to him then. He was truly fighting Maedhros very being in order to free him from his torment. The thought made him blanch. Could he honestly kill a part of another elf in order to save them? Can he protect the elf from himself while he helps to heal the damage his own Fea is causing to it's very core?

He knew Maedhros would see this as a gross violation of his very Fea. He also knew Maedhros would see, on some level, this as a mercy he didn't deserve but so desperately wished for. He wanted to heal. Glorfindel could feel it in that small spark that looked to see his work done. When one was so deeply wounded as this, however, that road was not easily followed. Nor accepted.  
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A conversation not long after that first encounter confirmed for Glorfindel one soul shattering truth. While a very tiny part of this elf wanted that healing, an even larger more dominant part did not. The wreckage of his past had become so entrenched in his Fea it was a part of him. Literally made up part of his very Fea. To deny that. To lose that. To “heal” those pieces that he had lived with and adapted to having for so many long years. It would be like destroying a part of himself. Glorfindel knew this was not the case. That it would indeed free his injured self to heal and become whole once more. However, he had also seen warriors and civilians with such deep seeded injuries to their very beings. He knew this was easier for an uninjured party to rationalize. 

“I wish to aid you in this and I know you do not wish for my interference. I offer this compromise. Come to my glade whenever the flood gates open within your defenses. Come to this place then. I will use what I know to heal what I can. I will stand against the rage within to help return that burning light within to its rightful brilliance.” 

Maedhros had offered him a blank look. His uncle had spent many years coaxing him out of the tightly closed shell his nephew had encased himself in to protect those he loved from his own darkness. Now this self assured Vanya thought it was as easy as sitting by a stream to heal what even the Valar deemed beyond their capabilities. He deserved this suffering. For all he had done. For what his family had cost so many. For his own shortcomings. For what the enemy-

“Don't let the choice be up to that flood alone. Think on it. I will be here regardless. I have those I wish to see to even if I am not ready to join them in their own lives. Believe me, Nelyafinwe, when I tell you you are not the only one who has struggled to find that promised peace and healing hear in Valinor.”  
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So they sat once more. Glorfindel in his trance upon his rock. Maedhros on his branch above the water curled into himself as an injured animal awaiting death's final call. Outside the sun shone and a gentle breeze blew. Inside a battle raged. Pieces of a torn and lost Fea were ever so slowly soothed by a warrior who never fails to find something to protect. 

In the distance upon a hill with a lone tree sits an ever present watchman. Fingolfin doubted either elf knew he watched them during each encounter. Many times he had rushed both to their respective beds with healers at his heals.Many times he also had to intervene before his nephew had imparted permanent physical harm on Laurefindil. The change in his nephew was minute but he could already see the positive impact these sessions were having. It would take more years than he wanted to admit. He knew not if Laurefindil had the patience for the door he had opened. But he hoped both would hold to their course for he desperately wanted to see his nephew once more as the brilliant fire that had burned to see each day. His son missed his closest friend and Feanor. . .his dear brother. He needed his eldest to once more be the pillar he never seemed to be for his family. So much was riding on these encounters. And all he could do was watch. . .and pick up the pieces as they fell.


End file.
